


Someday you'll call my name

by sonictrowel



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: And you can blame Katie for this one too, At least that was the prompt, F/M, Literally had 4 betas tell me this is okay just being an endless ream of dialogue, Phone Sex, SO, Sort Of, if you like talking, this one's for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonictrowel/pseuds/sonictrowel
Summary: The Doctor sighed as he made his way back to the console.  The last thing he needed was another unexpected emergency when he’d finally managed a proper holiday for his companions.  They were beginning to have a point about the whole mortal peril thing.“Hello?”“Oh!” said a woman’s voice on the line.  “Who have I got?”“You’ve got the Doctor,” he replied impatiently, “and if you don’t know that, where did you get this number?”





	Someday you'll call my name

**Author's Note:**

> Yup it's more 8/River, unrelated to the last. What can I say, I'm having a moment. Well, I'm always having this moment, but I'm dragging everyone into it with me now. Katie is once again responsible for this prompt. And I'll say again this is somewhere after Ravenous 1, and contains some Doom Coalition spoilers.
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it!

“I’m sure I’ve got an umbrella somewhere,” the Doctor called over his shoulder as he opened the TARDIS door.  In contrast to the blinding sunlight of the beach, the dim console room was a haze of greenish obscurity.

“I’m sure you have,” Liv shouted after him, “just don’t get lost looking for it!”

“I don’t get lost in my own TARDIS!” he shot back, just as the door swung shut, leaving him in darkness.  “I… get distracted.”

He navigated past the console mostly by memory, making a mental note to add sunglasses to the requisition list as he went, and only briefly snagged his foot on a rug.  He’d steadied himself against the opening of the corridor and was just beginning to regain some of his vision when the ringing of the telephone cut through the quiet control room.

The Doctor sighed as he made his way back to the console.  The last thing he needed was another unexpected emergency when he’d finally managed a proper holiday for his companions.  They were beginning to have a point about the whole mortal peril thing.

“Hello?”

“Oh!” said a woman’s voice on the line.  “Who have I got?”

“You’ve got the Doctor,” he replied impatiently, “and if you don’t know that, where did you get this number?”

“Oh my god, it’s _you_ , isn’t it?” she enthused, ignoring him entirely.

“Wha— yes, me, the Doctor.  And to whom am I speaking?”

“Lord Byron?” she went on, “With the hair and the velvet coat?  I knew about the face, I didn’t know about the voice!  I can’t believe you’ve been keeping yourself from me!”

“I— I’ve switched to leather, actually,” he stammered, too thrown by the strange conversation and a nagging _something_ in the back of his mind to come up with a better response.

“Well, that’s a bit premature,” the woman said.

“Do I know you?” he demanded, exasperated.

“That’s a… tricky question,” she replied, but she still sounded a bit too delighted about the whole situation for his comfort.

“No, no, I _do,”_ he insisted, something in his mind finally clearing as the green spots faded from his vision.  “It’s you, Sis… Sister Cantica!  I’m… not sure why, that’s all gone a bit fuzzy.”

“Sister?” she laughed.  “Now that’s one I haven’t tried.  Lovely name, though.  I’ll make a note.”

“Yes, I had a feeling that wasn’t really your… hang on.  Are you saying you haven’t met me before?”

“Mm, not specifically, no.  But now I am very much looking forward to it.”

“Well then, I’m sorry to disappoint, Sister, but you’ll have to give me a ring later, when we’re not risking mucking up the web of time with a chat.”

“Oh, no.  I’m not letting you get off that easily.”  Her emphasis nearly gave him pause, but she continued on authoritatively, “The TARDIS routed my call to you for a reason.”

“And what reason might that be?”

“Because she likes me.”  The Doctor could hear her grinning, and it really shouldn’t have been so charming, because she was clearly having some fun at his expense and he _hated_ not being in on the joke.  There was just something about her.  Always had been, really, but he’d been too distracted by the whole universe-ending, Gallifrey… thing.

Gallifrey.  She’d been with him, on Gallifrey!  What had happened to her?  When he tried to remember, his head ached.  Was she alright?  Had he abandoned her in his forgetfulness?

“Still with me, sweetie?”  Her voice on the line was distant as his mind continued to race.

She hadn’t done any of it, yet.  There was no way to know if she was safe.  She’d vanished from his life without a trace…  Or, it seemed, not entirely without one.

“What should I call you, then?” he asked, abruptly emerging from his reverie.

“What happened to mucking up the web of time?”

“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to keep my mouth shut.”

“Oh, you’ve never been very good at that,” she said, and once again he could hear the smile in her words.

“So you do know me?  I mean, you knew me already?  Before… well.  Shutting it.”

“I think,” she said, her voice bright with amusement, “if we’re going to continue to avoid the mucking-up, we might have to change the subject.”

“And what do you suggest?”

“You’re not doing anything, then?  Not busy dashing off to save the universe?”

The Doctor glanced over to the door, golden sunlight streaming through the windows and casting their pattern on the floor.  The umbrella could wait.

“No, not at the moment,” he said, dropping down to the floor and leaning back against the base of the console.

“Well, that’s lucky,” she replied.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“What’s that?”

“What do I call you?”

“Hmm,” she mused.  “Well, I _am_ always partial to ‘honey.’”

The Doctor laughed.  “That can’t be your real name.”

“Now what was that saying about who should cast stones?”

“Fine, then,” he said, futilely fighting the grin spreading over his face, “keep your secrets.”

“For now,” she added, gently.  Questioning her outright clearly wasn’t going to work.  He’d have to try to pick up some clues another way.

“Well,” he said, sitting cross-legged and shifting against the console in the sudden silence.  _“You_ called.”

“What are you up to?” she asked casually, apparently unfazed by their stilted conversation, dancing around the things they couldn’t say.

“Er, I’ve just brought my friends to the beach.  We’ve been… under some stress, lately.  I was aiming for relaxation.”

“Oh, beach day!  And how’s that going?”

“Well, I don’t hear any screams yet.”

“Better than most, then,” she laughed.

He shook his head, smiling.  If there was one thing that was becoming clear, it was that she certainly knew a lot about him.

“Are you dressed for it?” she asked.

“Sorry?”

“For the beach day.  I’m just… completing the mental image.  If you don’t mind.”

“Um.”  He glanced down at his swimming trunks.  “Yes?”

“Oh, excellent.  Don’t worry, I can fill in the details.”

He didn’t quite know what to say to that.

“Shall I tell you?” she asked.

“Tell me what?”

“What I’m wearing.”

The Doctor frowned.  That wasn’t exactly the sort of hint he was after, but he supposed he had to take whatever information was forthcoming.  “If you like?”

“It’s your favourite.”

“My—” he sputtered for a moment, then dropped his head back against the base of the console, rubbing at his forehead with his free hand.  “Right. Is this a ‘you’re even more wildly out of sync with my timestream than I feared’ thing or an ‘I’ve mysteriously forgotten something I really should know’ thing?”

“Which would you prefer?”

“I might prefer it if you were just having me on, but I get the distinct feeling that’s not the case.”

“Oh, you are a quick one,” she said, and her voice was grinning again.  It really was a lovely voice.  Rich and musical.  He could certainly stand to hear more of it, even if she was making fun of him.  

There was that nagging feeling again in the back of his mind, telling him this was really stupidly reckless.  Whenever his mystery woman was from, whatever she knew, he wasn’t meant to find out yet.  But the thought of ending the call and losing this unexpected connection made a sudden, startling spike of panic spread through him.  He needed to find her.  He needed to see her again, to be sure she was safe.  And maybe, finally, learn the truth about her.

“I, ah…”  The Doctor cleared his throat.  “I suppose you’ll have to describe it to me, then.  Seeing as the only thing I remember you wearing is a nun’s habit.”

She truly laughed at that: a deep, enchanting sound of delight that made his hearts do a funny fluttering thing in his chest.

“Well, it’s green, of course.  You’re always putting me in green; brings out my eyes.”

The fluttering continued apace at the frankly alarming implication that he was somehow responsible for dressing her.  

“Wait— does it?” he blurted, an urgent thought suddenly derailing his speculation about the nature of their relationship.

“Does it what?”

“Your eyes.  I could have sworn— no, I’m _certain_ they were brown.”

“Well.  Now that is interesting.”

“Aren’t they?” the Doctor insisted.  He seemed more and more at sea in this conversation, and farther than ever from finding some clue to her identity.

“Not recently,” she replied.

“Oh,” he said slowly, “yes, I thought you were a Time Lord!  But you said… No.  Your voice.  Your voice is the same, so you can’t have…”

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for this one either, sweetie.  I haven’t done it yet.”

 _Sweetie._ She’d said it before, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to hear it.  The mysterious card that materialised on his console with a waft of perfume, and two words that suddenly appeared as his TARDIS took flight: _hello sweetie._

“How did you do that?” he demanded, heedless of the rather sizable portion of his brain that was suddenly flailing and shouting at him to shut his mouth.  “How did you pilot my TARDIS?”

“Oh, far more easily than you do,” she shot back instantly.

A laugh burst out of him in spite of himself.  “Who _are_ you?” he asked, knowing full well it was futile even as the words left his lips, sounding quite a bit more desperate and pleading than he’d intended.

“Spoilers,” she answered, her voice low and positively dripping with self-satisfaction.  As she drew out the last syllable, a little bell rang in his mind.  A recent memory he’d not quite given any thought…

 

_“Oh, so you’re good with your hands?”_

_“Spoilers.”_

 

“Oh,” the Doctor croaked.

“Oh?” she repeated.

“No, I, um, I think I’ve just… understood something.  …Belatedly.”

“‘Better late than never’ is practically your motto,” she sang back at him.  “Care to let me in on it?”

“I have a feeling you already know.”

“Ah.  I was wondering when you’d catch on.”

He swallowed, shifting awkwardly back against the console column.

“I can let you go, if you like,” she offered, her voice suddenly gentle.

“No!” burst out of his mouth before he could give it even a moment’s thought.  “Um, no,” he said again, more measured.  “Stay.  Please.”

“Alright,” she agreed, and the obvious affection in her voice warmed him from the inside out.  He realised his hearts were pounding, and ran his hand nervously through his hair.

“I… don’t suppose you can tell me anything more,” he ventured.

“Probably shouldn’t have told you what I already did,” she said.  “But then, good behaviour never was my forte.”

The Doctor laughed, trying to calm his racing pulse.  “Something we share in common.”

“Oh, there’s plenty more where that came from,” she purred, and now that he’d finally caught on to her double entendres, he couldn’t seem to _stop_ hearing them.  “Shall I go on?” she asked, all innocence again.

“With what?” he blurted, utterly puzzled.

“The description.”

“Oh.”  If his voice cracked a bit, she didn’t say anything about it.  “Alright.”

“Are you somewhere comfortable?”

He couldn’t stop another burst of nervous laughter.  “Not particularly.  I’m on the floor below my console.”

“I can think of several more ideal places for this.”

He tried not to dwell on the ‘this’ part, for fear that he might try to put a name to it, which he instinctively felt would not go over very well with his brain.

“I’ll manage,” he choked out.

“Well, then, as I said, it’s green.  A little silk robe you found at the Hyspero markets.”  She paused, then went on thoughtfully, “I suppose that’s a bit of a spoiler.”

There was that word again.  “Probably not the one I’d be concerned about, under the circumstances,” the Doctor replied, as steadily as he could.

“Ah, but I could be anyone, couldn’t I?  Apparently, even a brown-eyed nun.”

“This… doesn’t seem the sort of conversation I’d have with anyone.”

“And what sort of conversation is this?”

“Well, I, ah—”  Her warm laughter put a merciful end to his stammering.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” she said, lingering on each syllable of the endearment.  “But you take a turn now.  Talk to me.”

“About…?”

“I think pretty much anything will do the trick, coming from you.”

She’d chosen her response poorly, as he was temporarily rendered speechless.

“Tell me more about this beach,” she prompted.

“Oh.”  The Doctor was suddenly reminded of his friends, waiting for him to return with a beach umbrella.  Liv would probably assume he’d gotten lost in the recesses of the TARDIS; hopefully, she was too busy enjoying the sunshine to come looking for him.  “It’s completely dull, really.  Well, that was rather the point.  Only normally when I aim for dull, my TARDIS seems to take it as a personal affront and makes sure I end up somewhere… more exciting.”

“Still no screams, though?” she asked, and her voice was just that little bit lower, scratchier than the last time she spoke.

“No,” he said, his face suddenly hot, “not yet.”

“Well, the day is young.  I’m sure the Old Girl had some other excitement in mind for you.”

“So it would seem,” he quipped hoarsely, and was rewarded with another delighted, throaty laugh.  “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m counting on there being some screaming.”

“N-no, no, I mean, what were you doing today?”

“I’ve just had a nice, long soak in the bath.”  Her sing-song voice had just the slightest tremor in it.  “Before that, marking exams.  Not something _you_ find terribly interesti—”

“Professor!” he cried.

“Doctor?” she replied, humming with amusement.

“That was one of the things L— my friend called you.  Professor Malone!”

“Well _Malone’s_ another new one,” she chuckled.  “I have been getting creative, haven’t I?”

The Doctor sighed.  “That’s not your real name either.”

“Sorry, sweetie.”

“But you are a professor?”

“You’ve found me out.  Only fair, really, since you spoiled it for me in the first place.”  He was distracted from speculating over what that could possibly mean by a soft hitch in her voice that made his stomach coil into a knot.  

“And where do you teach?” he pressed on stubbornly.

“Now that’s getting a little personal, don’t you think?”  

He let out a bark of laughter that was just a bit too high.  “You think _that’s_ what’s getting personal?”

“Haven’t we only just met?” she asked innocently, but her voice trembled enough to betray her.

The Doctor smiled and dragged his hand over his face as his head fell back against the console column again with a dull _thunk._ Whatever crucial pieces remained missing from the picture she’d painted him— _green eyes,_ he thought, trying to reconcile his mental image— the rest of it was becoming intimately clear.

“We haven’t properly met at all,” he muttered.  “But I’d like to.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she sighed.

“You know me.  But it’s not this me.  You’ve seen my future.”

“Clever,” she said, the word clipped and shaky.  “Then, you always are.”

“Well, yes.  …Apart from when I’m an idiot.”

Her deep, musical laughter stuttered over her sharp breaths.  “Oh, I like you.”

“Glad to hear it,” he replied, grinning when she laughed again.

“I always do,” she said, her voice warm between soft gasps.  “Always.”

The flush of heat in his body gave way to a sudden ache between his hearts.  “I can’t remember what happened to you, Professor,” he said, quietly.  “I can’t remember where you’ve gone.”

“There’s—” she faltered and groaned before panting, “probably a very good reason for that, my love.”

The word rang in the Doctor’s ears and left him stunned, his eyes wide and hearts racing.

“Tell me where you are,” he said, his own voice suddenly dropping an octave, “and I’ll come right now.”

“Oh, say that again,” she moaned.

“I mean it,” he insisted.  “Just give me the coordinates.”  He licked his lips, shifting forward and becoming aware of his white-knuckled grip on the receiver.  “I’ll be there before you can say—”

His next word was drowned out by a sharp cry that shot down his spine like a lightning bolt.  He sat frozen in place, his mouth dry and pulse racing as her whimpers and shuddering sighs began to slow.

“Sorry,” she laughed breathlessly after a long moment of silence, “what were you saying?”

He smiled, the blood still pounding in his ears.  “I want to see you.  Please.”

“Oh, sweetie, I wish you could.”  The sudden longing in her voice made the ache in his chest grow sharper.

“And why can’t I?”

“Remember that whole ‘mucking up the web of time’ thing?”

“You didn’t seem too concerned about that a moment ago.”

“And you haven’t exactly been keeping your mouth shut, either,” she scolded, but he could hear her smiling again.

“I’m… worried about you,” he admitted.  “When I last saw you, I can’t quite…  We were in danger, all of us.  And then you were gone.”

“Well, it won’t do you any good to come see me now, before that’s even happened, will it?”

“It might.”  She laughed with him, and being responsible for her making that lovely, genuine sound was quickly becoming an intoxicating thing.  The Doctor didn’t dare begin to speculate what it might be like to cause some of the other sounds she’d recently made, but… oh, too late.

“You’re sure?” he asked, doing his level best not to beg.

“I think your time would be better spent looking for a brown-eyed nun.  It’s just possible I may have said too much… so you’d better find me soon.  And don’t worry.  I _certainly_ won’t have forgotten this.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” he sighed, head in his hand.

“I trust you, Doctor.  We’ll find each other.  We always do.”

“That sounds an awful lot like ‘goodbye,’” he whispered.

“Never that, my love.  Only ‘til the next time.’”

“I look forward to it,” he choked, his throat suddenly aching.

“Me too, sweetie.”  The line clicked and went silent.

The Doctor dropped the hand holding the phone to his side, staring blankly ahead as he slumped against the base of the console.  The silence in the control room rang in his ears.

Finally, he swallowed and began to rise on unsteady feet, balancing himself with a hand on the edge of the panelling.  Sunlight was still shining merrily through the windows of the TARDIS doors, and he’d not gotten any use out of his swimwear, but staying at the very dull, ordinary, human beach with no mysterious nun-professors on it suddenly seemed absurd.

He raced to the front doors and threw them open, emerging onto the bright, sandy beach once more.  “Liv, Helen!” he shouted.  “Have you enjoyed your stay?”

“Our stay?” Helen repeated, glancing over her shoulder at him from her chair.  “We’ve only just gotten here.”

“Did you find an umbrella?” Liv demanded.  “You’ve been ages!”

“Umbrellas are boring.  So are beaches!  Nothing good happening here, anyway!  Probably not even any interesting, man-eating sort of sea creatures!  We can do much better.”

“Yes, that was the _point,_ ” Liv said.  “Not getting eaten!  And for once, so far, you’ve gotten it right!”

“Yes, but—”

“No,” she interrupted firmly, “we’re staying put right here for the rest of the day.”

“Has something come up, Doctor?” Helen asked.

“Ye—”

“Doesn’t matter!” Liv declared.  “It’s a time machine.  We’ve been at risk of being murdered at basically one hundred percent of our destinations since Helen came on board.  It can wait for one day.  Right, Doctor?”

He sighed heavily.  “Yes, fine.  You’re right.  I know it’s been difficult.  You deserve a day off.  I’ll just go… do some research.”

“I thought you were going to swim?” Helen asked as he turned back to the TARDIS.

“Don’t forget the umbrella this time!” Liv called.

The Doctor could hear them talking in hushed tones as the doors swung shut behind him and he returned to the console again, trailing sand but slightly less blinded this time after his brief exposure to the sunlight.

Where to start?  His hands hovered over the keys.  Gallifrey, a shredded vortex, a doomsday that never came to pass.  There would be hundreds, _thousands_ of trails left from a temporal incident like that.  It would take ages to find one that pointed to his mystery woman.

So he really couldn’t waste any more time before getting started.

He dashed back to the doors and stuck his head out.  “You’ve got my number, Liv?”

“What?  What are you planning to do?”  Her tone was dangerous, and she was starting to clamber up out of her folding chair.

“Ahh, um, here!”  He pulled his sonic from his pocket and tossed it, and she caught it just as she got to her feet.  “Any emergencies, I’ve still got it set on fast-return.”

“You’re leaving?” Helen asked as she stood.

“Well, you two know I’m not really cut out for holidays.  I’ll be back before you know I’m gone!”

“But—”

“Fine,” Liv agreed wearily, “just don’t get into any trouble without us?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, flashing his companions a grin, and retreated into the TARDIS once more.

“Wait,” Liv called over the groaning of the TARDIS brakes as the ship began to dematerialise, “the umbrella!”

Oh, well.  He’d only be gone a moment.  

As the TARDIS entered the Vortex, the Doctor’s eyes lit on a bright speck on the scanner: only one of hundreds leading away from that massive spacetime event that never was.

It was a start.

 


End file.
